


Sooner Forgotten

by invictofiction, The_Lionheart



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: EMTs foil valiant rescue, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invictofiction/pseuds/invictofiction, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lionheart/pseuds/The_Lionheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve thinks that maybe the EMTs of New York deserve more credit than they get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonwrangler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwrangler/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started to revamp some of this story, due to mild irritation at chapter flow.

Incredible pain ripped through his chest and suddenly Bruce gasped for air; Bright lights flashed and he had no recollection of where he was or what had happened. Instinctively he tried to rub his eyes clear but something pushed his hands down and away from his face. 

"Sir can you squeeze my fingers?" Bruce complied without really thinking about it. "Good. Do you hurt anywhere?"

A shaded, hazy figure loomed over him, inky black against the blinding lights. Bruce was rocked by movement, and sirens screamed in the distance, distracting him further in his groggy state. He groaned and tried to sit up but was restrained; disembodied hands roamed over his body, clinically, checking for injuries. Bruce tried to talk, to ask what the _hell_ what going on but he found that he couldn't move his head or speak very clearly. Something was covering his mouth and had itself wrapped tighly around his neck- a breathing mask. "Sir? Are you still awake?" Gloved fingers pulled at his eyelids and suddenly there was a painfully bright light shined into each of his eyes.

"Pupils are equal, round and reactive to light- Sir, can you tell me your name?"

Several moments passed before Bruce was able to finally focus enough to take in his surroundings; he was in an emergency transport vehicle, which was good (or really bad, he wasn't ready to tackle that one, yet). He was cold- his clothing had been cut off and he could tell that he was gritty, filthy and _oh shit, they put in a catheter, my blood-_

Bruce started to tense up and try to pull free, get their attention- "Sir! Stop fighting me, you need to relax." The medic grunted as she tried to wrestle Bruce's limbs back down to the gurney. He managed to get one hand up and yanked the mask from his face, "Stop; I have a ...  blood infection." He wasn't sure how much to really divulge, but Bruce had to make sure that the crew knew to be _extremely_ careful while handling him, if he happened to be bleeding, which, judging by the gummy feeling in his left eye, was a real possibility. "Okay, thank you for telling me, but I really need you to lie still." 

"What happened?" Bruce's voice was raspy and when he coughed, he found that ribs ached in a manor he didn't like. The board beneath him was really starting to make his lower back and hips ache- or, Bruce realized as he experimentally tried to lift each leg, it was probably more that he was strapped to the back board. The last thing he remembered was making breakfast at the mansion before the team had been called in to wrangle a wave of Doom Bots that had just leveled a few blocks of condos.

"You don't remember?" Bruce tried to shake his head but, of course, he was still restrained by the cervical collar and the tape across his forehead. "No." Bruce could hear someone else in the back of the unit, getting vitals and recording them. 

"You were in a building when it collapsed. My partner and I, and the Engine crew we were with, saw your arm sticking out of some of the rubble from the fight. You have no obvious external injuries but you were found unconscious, so we're taking you to the nearest hospital for a better assessment."

Silence reigned for several moments as Bruce digested that information. He's not sure what happened to knock him out of his transformation or why he was left _alone_ , but part of him, the primal portion of his hind brain, was preparing for the very real possibility that these paramedics weren't who they said they were. The medic took that as a chance to continue to do whatever it was she was doing. Blood pressure, pulse- she trailed her hands over most of his exposed skin, probing and asking him to move his fingers and toes. Bruce complied out of - well, fear. He was scared; even if these weren't really paramedics and he was being extremely paranoid, he was starting to feel some unwelcome pain blooming between his shoulders. 

 

\-----

  
"How the hell do you _lose_ him?" Steve did not yell; he barely raised his voice at all, because the alternative was to actually roar in fury at this new kid, Agent Johnson. "We haven't had contact with Bruce _or_ the Hulk in over an _hour_!"

"Steve, calm down," Tony said, even as he gave the SHIELD agent in front of Steve the stink-eye. "We know where Bruce was when the building came down, but by the time it was safe to get the crews in there, the scanners didn't show anything Hulk-sized in the area. There's always a chance that he powered down and that the rescue teams got him before we did, right? But the chances are pretty much even that the Hulk clawed his way out of there and ran for the hills." Tony's voice softened as he put a hand on Steve's arm. "Whichever the case may be, Cap, we will find him," Tony promised, and Steve let out a frustrated little sigh before turning and stalking back to the Quinnjet.

  
The problem was that it was _entirely Steve's fault_. He should have sent the Hulk to an area with fewer buildings, should have utilized his team to lead the villain of the week to a less densely populated area- instead, he let the enemy call those shots, let the fight start with civilians and residential housing all around them. A stray shot from their foe's energy blaster destabilized an entire building, and the Hulk had _run_ over to throw his back against the collapsing wall and give the people inside a few precious moments to flee.

  
Steve remembered hearing Thor and Tony shout warnings to the Hulk, but the building came crashing down anyway, and that was the last anyone had heard from or seen their gamma-fueled friend.

  
Steve peeled off his uniform and changed into jeans without attempting to clean off the post-battle grime; he was too tightly wound to think about showering or relaxing, not while Bruce was _out there_ somewhere. There was a sharp knock and Natasha let herself in, giving Steve a quiet, unreadable look.

"Tony's tracking everything he can to find out if anyone or anything matching Bruce's description- _both_ of his descriptions- has been seen leaving the scene, Steve." She sighed. "Fury wants you to keep in mind that it wouldn't be the first time Bruce has disappeared after something like this."

  
"Natasha," Steve muttered, staring down at his shoes. " _Don't_. Don't try to tell me he might have- that he could have left us on purpose. He _knows_ we need him. That we care about him; He wouldn't do that to us."

  
"I'm not saying he did," she responded and took a step back towards the door. "But you need to be prepared for the idea. We'll find out where he is, Steve, and when we do, you'll be able to find out why. And, if necessary, you'll be able to bring him _home_." She put a hand on Steve's shoulder before walking back out, and Steve put his hand over his eyes and tried to focus, tried to _breathe_.


	2. Chapter Two

Time passed strangely for Bruce, as he was rushed through traffic. Where were they taking him? They were in New York, it wasn't far to any emergency care center; but then, Bruce supposed, if he'd been working with the team at the time, it was highly likely that there were a lot of people in need of medical care. Triage was in effect and while he didn't have obvious external injuries, he could only infer that the Medics were running with the assumption that he had internal injuries. He'd be taken to the nearest level one trauma center.  
  
"Sir, what's your name?" Bruce blinked and hesitated, which the medic took as a sign to lift the mask from Bruce's face. She peered down over him with a pleasant smile.  
  
A tense moment passed where Bruce considered lying; he was still not wildly popular with the general public and he didn't blame them. The Hulk was _intense_ and liked to smash, he was loud and, honestly, he was a bit of a monster. People were scared and not completely willing to give him the chance to really show that Hulk wasn't looking for blood most of the time. He weighed his options and decided that by giving his real name, SHIELD was likely to catch up to him _really_ quickly, which, actually, he really wanted at the moment.  
  
"Bruce Banner." 

The medic shifted the breathing mask so that it wasn't fully over his mouth, but close enough that he was still receiving oxygen. "Okay, Bruce, do you remember what you were doing or how you ended up under that building?"  

"No, not exactly." Bruce shivered and pulled the blanket that he'd been given up a little further. "Yeah, it's a little cold in here, isn't it? Sorry about that, I've been trying to get the heater fixed back here for a few weeks." The medic got up and started rooting around in one of the compartments as she spoke. "There's just not enough in the budget, I guess. Lucky for you, though, the hospital has quite a few blankets for us to take." She smiled as she unfurled a few and tucked them down around his feet and sides. "Winter's a crummy time to be outside anyway, Bruce, why were you running around with only shorts on? I'm amazed that you're not hypothermic, right now." She seemed to sober up and genuine worry crept into her features. 

Bruce huffed a laugh and ended up coughing. "Careful, there." The medic -who'd probably told Bruce her name but he was so out of it that he couldn't remember- lifted the mask up and away from his mouth until he stopped coughing. "You've opened that cut on your forehead again, I'm afraid. It's not a bad one but the face is quite a blood-rich area. I'm sorry if this hurts but I have to bandage it up again." 

 

\---

  
"Steve," Tony's voice broke Steve's reverie. Tony shifted a little and turned to wait for Steve to make eye contact before speaking again. "Look, I've been combing satellite photos, running trajectories through JARVIS, everything I can think of, okay? I'd like... I'd like to say that we've conclusively _ruled out_ the idea that the Hulk jumped out of there or left the scene at all."  
  
"Is he still _there_?" Steve barked, rising to his feet from his seat on the edge of his bed. Tony swallowed, shaking his head- not in a negative, just to indicate that he didn't really know.  
  
" _If_ he's still under all that rubble, Steve... he's not there as the Hulk," Tony said softly, his eyes widening as Steve took a step closer. "But, but look, even as Bruce he's still pretty durable, right? And we can't- we don't know yet if he's been picked up by any of the paramedics in the area already, rescue crews have been combing the neighborhood all day and there have been _hundreds_ of new admittances, so-"  
  
"Tony," Steve said softly, feeling a slight pang of guilt at the way Tony flinched when he said it. It wasn't Tony's fault, and Steve knew that he was feeding Tony's guilt over not having found Bruce yet, but- but this is _Bruce_ , and losing him like this would break the team, would break _Steve_. "Tony, if you can do _anything_ to search for Bruce in the hospital records, do it."  
  
"I, ah, alright, Steve, but y'know, not exactly fitting the definition of _legal_ , per se-" Tony started.  
  
"I don't. Care. If it's legal," Steve hissed, turning away. "If you can't give me that, then at least use that brain of yours for something _useful_ and figure out which hospital's more likely to have him so I can go there _myself_. Can you do _that_ , Tony?"  
  
"Uh- yeah, sure," Tony said quickly, backing out of the room. Steve pressed his knuckles against the hollows of his eyes, breathing raggedly. He felt bad for doing that, for speaking to his friend that way, but...  
  
But nothing. The sooner they found Bruce alive, the sooner Steve could stop worrying about whether he was dying and alone.

**Author's Note:**

> The Lionheart and I took turns with this; She tackled Steve's POV and I took Bruce's. 
> 
> We both like to torture them.


End file.
